


Turning Tables

by princessdi



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Angst and Drama, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Divorce, Drama, Enemies to Friends, Historical Accuracy, Historical Hetalia, Historical References, M/M, Mentioned England (Hetalia), Mentioned France (Hetalia), Mentioned Hungary (Hetalia), Mentioned Russia (Hetalia), Minor Hungary/Prussia (Hetalia), Past Austria/Hungary (Hetalia), Post-Divorce, Post-World War I, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22610401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessdi/pseuds/princessdi
Summary: Hearing Austria hasn't been doing well post World War I, Prussia travels to Vienna to see for himself. He works to handle the mess he discovers.
Relationships: Austria & Prussia (Hetalia)
Kudos: 11





	Turning Tables

_Vienna, 1919._  
  
Since the end of the Great War, Prussia had done his best to avoid Austria. While they'd both gone through a similar loss, the removal of a royal family they cherished, things remained tense between them. In all honesty, Prussia didn't want to hear it. He knew that if he'd see Austria then he'd be blamed for their losses. That sweet little Roderich would _never_ want to go to war, that bloodthirsty tyrant to the north tricked him into it. Meanwhile, if they had been able to claim victory, Roderich would be bending over backwards to pat himself on the back for starting the damn thing.   
  
No, he'd much rather continue to hide out in Berlin, away from any sort of confrontation while Gilbert licked his wounds. But Europe loved her gossip. Prussia had known about the divorce before it happened, a fact he would deny if asked, and had celebrated it in October when the breakup seemed inevitable. He'd been so preoccupied with losing the war that he hadn't wasted a moment being concerned about how Roderich was taking it. And why should he have been? No matter what side they were on at the moment, he still wanted to see the Austrian face as much personal misery as possible. No, he only began to pay attention to it when he received a letter from one of Austria's old states informing him of how bad Roderich was handling everything. The letter had promised him a juicy show, something Gilbert would be able to relish in.   
  
If that was the case, then why was Gilbert so nervous? He shook his head, clearing his mind. It wasn't nerves, he was simply so excited for the main event that his mind shut off. He entered the home, surprised by how vacant it was without his staff. " _Österreich,_ where are you hiding?" 

Prussia followed the sound of a piano deeper into the home. What Austria was doing wasn't so much as making music but making noise. His fingers pounded furiously at the keys, releasing all his tension into the instrument. He stared intensely down at the ivory, as if he was daring at it to make a move against him. "What do you want, _Preußen?"_

Gilbert took a seat on one of the sofas alongside the piano. "I'm checking in on you. You know how things are, word travels. Everyone's saying you're a wreck and I wanted to get a front-row seat to your implosion." Despite his taunting, concern flashed across his face. "And, man, you really are imploding. You look like hell."

" _Of course_ I look like shit, Gilbert, I've lost everything! Some of us have fallen on hard times." Roderich appraised the other man. He looked neatly put together, as if he hadn't been fighting a war for the past four years and lost a substantial amount of territory, money, and resources. He glowered. "I forget myself. The glorious Prussia is too good to struggle," he snarled.

Such hostility right off the bat took him by surprise. Normally Gilbert was the one who fired the first shot. He sat up straight, trying to find a way to deescalate the situation. "I'm struggling there's, ah..." Quick, think of something. "Debt! Lots of postwar debt! Have to pay off France somehow." Roderich gave him a look that called him on his garbage. Gilbert exhaled loudly. "Nothing I say will be acceptable to you, so why should I bother trying to convince you that I've been dealt a shit hand too? I lost my monarchy, that's been rough."

"Cry me a river. Losing the Hohenzollerns is mercy on us all. Without the Hapsburgs, my whole state is in shambles. There is no one to rule, no one understands what's going on, and all of them refuse to listen to me! All they want to do is chase each other around Vienna and debate things. The whole practice is absurd!" Roderich buried his head in his hands. He banged out a few sharp notes on the piano to vent his frustrations. "But I bet democracy is so wonderful in Prussia!" He began imitating a North German accent with a stupid smile on his face. "Oh yes! It's so wonderful and effectual and we all hold hands and sing songs! What a wonderful way of doing things, we should've tried this long ago instead of starting every major war for the last fifty fucking years!"

That was hurtful. Gilbert crossed his arms. His eyes narrowed into a glare. "I think speaking like that constitutes as some sort of prejudice. No surprise then that everyone left you. I'm sure Feliks found your impressions of Poles equally as charming."

"As if you like the Polish either!"

He shrugged, ignoring that. "Besides, what's the point in taking your anger out on me? I'm trying to do a nice thing here, making sure that you're still functioning. Has anyone else come here to check on you?" A telling silence. Gilbert smiled without any warmth. "Exactly. I'm all that you've got right now. So, either get a little nicer or you're going to lose your only friend."

Austria jumped up, unable to contain himself. He began pacing, a cold fire burning in his eyes. "There goes your arrogance as always! We are not, nor will we ever be, friends! I don't want your sympathy; I've never asked for it and I certainly don't need it now. I'm capable of being on my own and regrouping till the time is right for me to reclaim all my possessions again. This is simply a minor hiccup. Part of the natural ebb and flow of our existence." He turned on his heel, facing Gilbert directly with unbridled contempt. "As for you, I don't want anything to do with you! Your vile tongue was the one that coaxed me into that godforsaken war and what did I get? I lost everything because of your blood lust! You didn't care one bit about assisting me with anything, you only wanted to gobble up more French territory for yourself!"

"And I did. I would've kept it all if it hadn't been for that meddling kid." Prussia shrugged dismissively, pushing away his mental picture of America. "They'll get their comeuppance soon enough. I'm not losing sleep over it." The Austrian was flustered at how little impact his words made. Seeing this, his rival seized the moment with a smirk. "If you knew all that, and I know you did because I hadn't bothered hiding it, then why did you so willingly go along with me? There you go again with your victim complex, Roddy. I'm always the one forcing you into something or doing something to you that you find so reprehensible. Will you ever grow the balls to admit that you like it? That you love taking things just as much as me?" Roderich's discomfort made him smile. He licked his teeth, hungry at the thought of conquest. "While we partitioned Poland, you acted like it was so horrendous while demanding you get some of the best portions. You didn't hesitate to attack Denmark with me on the same flimsy reasons simply because it would be an easy fight. I hate to admit it too, but we're the same. It's about time you own up to it."

"You have no shame. You like to be the villain."

"I'm not the villain, I just don't delude myself with thinking I'm the good guy. You should try it."

They stared each other down. Gilbert remained spread out on the sofa, claiming the entirety of it for himself, while Roderich stood behind the piano, his left hand clinging tightly to it. Roderich eventually cooled his nerves enough to form a sentence that wasn't filled with expletives. "Get out of my home. I don't want you defiling it with your presence any longer."

"Make me. You don't have the staff any longer to force me out." Gilbert flashed a shark-like smile, full of teeth and lacking emotion. "Face it, Roddy. In some twisted way, we need each other. Where would be if we weren't getting into screaming matches like this? There would be no more fun in life."

"I don't need you around! I am adamant in the fact that I'm perfectly capable of being on my own! In all honesty, I would prefer it. My music doesn't talk back to me in such a loathsome way. Nor do my books, my portraits, my garden." He began noticing a pattern. He truly had no living companions. Roderich began considering his life. Who on earth actually understood him? Hungary did, but she had made clear to him her feelings when she left. There was no way he could contact her without invoking her wrath. All the other territories he occupied held even more negative opinions of him, as did his former peers in the Holy Roman Empire. His eyes met Gilbert's. If this was the closest he could come to any sort intimate relationship, he was damned.

"When was the last time you were really alone?" All the baiting had left Gilbert's voice. The faintest bit of genuine sympathy - or what it pity? Roderich could no longer tell - was reflected in his eyes. "I've never seen your home this quiet."

"It's been centuries. Not since the sixteenth century." Some of the fight began to drain his body. He slumped down on the piano bench. "I have some staff still. Purely the essentials. A butler, a chauffeur, two chefs, a maid that comes twice weekly. Nothing nearly as extravagant as before. It's rather ostentatious to have a palace be so empty." He laughed bitterly. "If the state wasn't paying for them, I would personally have a hard time. My finances aren't in the best place."

Gilbert shot him an incredulous look. Roderich cleared his throat. "Alright, I'm not exactly in dire straits. I still have plenty of gold and jewels, but the government offered and why turn down a good deal?"

"You're such a cheap bastard." Gilbert couldn't stop himself from snorting out a laugh. "You almost had me for a second, till I remembered you probably have loads stashed away in some London bank account." He composed himself. "If you've been surrounded by underlings for that long, you're not going to handle in being such a huge place by yourself. Your cries might echo too loudly at night for your comfort." Embarrassed by his confession, he tried walking it back. "So I've heard. Francis gave me that advice after I destroyed him at Waterloo. It's not from personal experience." Another signature smooth save.

Roderich didn't want to touch that. He did ponder the advice for a moment, before rejecting it. "I would, but this is the smallest home I own, and I don't want to purchase an even smaller one. I had enough trouble fitting all my possessions in here as it was."

"This...this is your smallest home?" Outrage. Pure, unbridled outrage. Gilbert swiveled his head around, suddenly feeling a deep sympathy for the Marxists who called for the heads of aristocrats. "My smallest home is a hunting lodge in rural East Prussia! This is bigger than some of my palaces in Potsdam and those would be the ones I showed off to women to impress them." He closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Throughout all these years, I don't think you've ever said a more upsetting thing to me."

None of that mattered. Roderich narrowed in on his true target. "Which women, Gilbert?"

Cornered. "There's a really funny story behind that, I'm sure you'll be laughing very much. I need something to drink though. It's the only way I'll have the strength to tell you." Seeing his suspicious look, Gilbert begged. "Please. When I'm done, we'll both need one."

It was a simple enough demand and, though he would never admit, he had a feeling Gilbert was right. Roderich looked around for one of his staff to command to bring them a bottle and some glasses. There was no one else in the room. "I didn't say this, but you might have a point that I'm not well-adjusted to this life." Even more shocking, they both laughed, enjoying the very act. Roderich led them out of the music room and into the bar where they made themselves comfortable with a glass of wine and beer respectively.

Gilbert sipped from his stein happily. "Ah, much better. You also can't kick me out after I tell you this."

"I would never promise such a thing."

"I didn't think so, but worth a shot. Anyways, I got access to all the castles which I doubt is news to you because you probably have a similar arrangement. And of my favorites, the largest is the _Neuis Palais_. Well, I'm not sure if it's the largest but it seems like it. I loved it even when Fritz was alive and there were a few months while we were living there that I begged him to move out for a few days so I could bring this woman back, show her off, have her feel like a queen. All the works of romance-"

"That reminds me. Who was this lovely woman? It's so fascinating that you'd go to such lengths to woo her, I'd love to know her name." Austria stared him down from over the rim of his wine glass. He took his sip and smiled. "To have such powers over your heart, she must be quite the force of nature." He spoke very pointedly.

"You shouldn't ask questions you already know the answer to."

"Oh contraire. Those are usually the best questions to ask."

"Fine. It's Erzsébet, it's always her. Happy?" He was met with a fake smile brimming with hostility before continuing. "You asked to hear this, you put this on yourself. So, I'm doing all this to impress Erzsi because _some_ of us know how to treat a woman and keep her satisfied." He offered his own mock smile. "Fritz wasn't very big on the whole plan since he was living there at the time and believed his needs usurped my own, which is ridiculous considering all the things I had to do to help him sneak his boyfriends around so he could get a little action. _Anyway."_ Gilbert smirked, thinking back at those fond memories. "Once I inform him who it is I'm planning on-"

"Cheating with? Helping destroy her marriage? Sleeping your way to the slightest bit of self-satisfaction?" Roderich smiled, but it didn't meet his eyes. "Do any of those work for you?"

"If you're going to keep interrupting, I'll start going into graphic detail while acting it out." The distraught look on Roderich's face provided a sufficient answer. "Smart choice. I tell him who I'm going to spend a wonderful weekend with and he finds it hysterical. His immediate reaction was to ask me if Maria-Theresa knew and if it upset her. I didn't know the answer to that, but I figured if I said she did and she was, it would help my chances."

"She did know and she found it equally distasteful. It furthered her disdain for you, as both a state and person. Once you invaded Silesia, I decided she needed to know everything you'd done so we'd be more determined to crush you." Austria was gripping the arms of his chair tight in his left hand. He tried to relax his grasp, but found it impossible.

Gilbert, proud of his exceptional guesswork, paid no attention. "I'm such a genius. I got what I wanted and I weaseled out the truth! I really am the most brilliant strategist in all of Europe."

"While we're congratulating your brilliance, care to spare a word on the Schlieffen Plan?"

"It would've worked just fine if Ludwig hadn't bungled it!" Prussia huffed, crossing his arms. He resented having his plans critiqued by an armchair general.

Austria finished down the rest of his drink. The wine really did appear to be a necessity. He filled his glass again, needing more to help quiet his thoughts. "I'm surprised at how bashful you were to mention all that. Normally you love throwing this sort of thing in my face. Have you two had a falling out?" Self-loathing filled him for the faint hope in his voice.

"Why would I want to tell you all about us right now? There's no joy in kicking a dog while he's down." With a flick of his hand, Gilbert waved away Roderich's dim glimmer of hope. "I'd rather beat you down when you're getting arrogant again about your place in the world. I figured with the divorce, you didn't want to hear about all my recent trips to Budapest." He snickered. "Correct me if I'm wrong. I'd be more than happy to fill you in on everything we've been doing."

"I most certainly do not want to hear any of that! I would appreciate if you didn't insinuate about what you're doing with her, you degenerate!" An obnoxious laughter filled the room. Roderich wanted to scream, but barely restrained himself. "Now I understand the real reason you're here. You've been waiting all this time to throw that in my face, remind me of where you stack up better as a lover than me. There's nothing to stop you now - though, I suppose there never was if you lack any morals - so why not go all in? You're such a loathsome creature."

"I didn't insinuate anything you couldn't figure out was happening! You would do the exact same to me if you had the chance." Gilbert was now growing frustrated. "How many times do I have to tell you that my real reason, no bullshit, to be here is to see how you're doing? To make sure you're not slitting your wrists or sticking your head in an oven! You don't have anyone and, besides, who knows you like your worst enemy?" He patted Roderich on the shoulder. "We both need friends right now. Arthur won't talk to me since he's taking this war close to heart and Ivan seems like he's losing it. Ludwig's being a real jerk right now so why not sit around, talking with you? You've always given me good enough entertainment."

"It's almost endearing that you feel that way, but have you ever stopped to consider how I might feel about all this? That I find you, down to my core, the most disgusting character in the world? You dragged me into a war that destroyed everything I hold dear, my ex-wife had been cheating with you for centuries and now she gets to openly be with you, you've been provoking me to war and self-destructive choices for years and besting me at every turn." Austria's hands shook with anger. All the negative emotions he'd been suppressing for the past few months began pouring out. "You're the antithesis to everything I believe makes an upstanding, respectable person. Every aspect of you from the mundane to the important fills me with dread. The fact that for so long so many have found you charming - in fact, that they've found you to be a better friend, lover, and ally than _me_ \- boggles the mind and upsets it so deeply! I'm at the point where I can barely stand the sight of you. Especially knowing that, despite every conceivable factor, you're able to still be relatively well-off and powerful while I am a shell of my former self! You are the one that's at fault for everything, but have barely faced any personal consequences!"

Prussia sat, continuing to drink while the other man vented. He glanced at his watch, finding the whole speech tiresome. "Are you done yet? I've heard all this before from you. I would've figured that such a maestro would've learnt a new song by now."

That did it. The tables turned, Austria saw red. He bolted up and grabbed Prussia by the collar, thrusting him up. "I would love nothing more than to rid my life of you for once and for all. No matter where I turn, no matter where I go, I always come up against you. Why? What game are you playing at here? Haven't you had your fun yet? You've cursed me to become eroded over time, replaced by such a backwater _Piefke!_ "

"Are you really going to hit me to make yourself feel better? After all the years you derided me for doing the same?" Prussia's answer was the feeling of a fist crashing into his chin. He shifted his jaw around, laughing. "You've never been much of a fighter. That's the lamest hit I've ever taken, didn't even draw blood."

"Then show me how it's done, you brute! You're the one who's always talked about rolling in the mud. Here's your chance! For once, I'm actually ready!"

His hands balled into a fist and he swung his arm back. He would show Austria, he'd show him how a real man fought. But something caught Prussia's attention. How crazed Roderich looked, the desperation in his eyes. This wouldn't be a fair fight. This would be wish fulfillment, further proof that the world was stacked up against him. Gilbert dropped his arm and pushed Roderich away. "Why would I when you're beating yourself up better than I could? What honor is there in this fight?"

There was that damn pity again. Roderich couldn't take it. He collapsed onto the floor. All the fight within him drained at last. There was nothing left, not even a flicker. "I've lost everything. I don't even have a rival who sees me as a worthy challenger."

"Look at yourself, Roderich! Really look at yourself! You don't need me to beat the shit out of you to feel alive again. Have a little more sense of self-worth than that! You need to get a grip before you completely lose your mind." Prussia closed his eyes, swallowing all his pride. "I'm only doing this because you need some sort of pick me up. I respect you, in my own way. I wouldn't have wasted my time going after you all these years if I didn't respect how much of a threat you can be." He opened his eyes, staring intently out the window. "And, before everything got intense, you were decent towards me. I respected that you appreciated me enough to let me become a kingdom. And that was before you started handing kingships out like they were candy!"

Austria rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Fat good it did me. Acknowledging you in such a way proved to be the worst move of my life." He considered the rest of what Prussia had said. The full weight of it took him by surprise once it settled in. "You have a strange way of showing respect."

He sat down besides Roderich, assessing the situation to be stable enough to move closer. "I respected what you could do politically and, for a very short time, militarily. I'll admit that once Erzsi told me about her situation, who you were as a person didn't move me. Didn't mean I stopped respecting how willing you were to fight me on everything, even when it was obvious you were going to lose."

"On paper, I typically had the upper-hand. If you're going to delude yourself, try not to do it in my presence." Roderich crossed his arms. He slowly felt some of his barriers crumbling down, much to his curiosity. "I suppose it's only fair if I admit to admiring your tenacity, despite it always being used to oppose me. The way you would always chase after whatever fantasy you held was fascinating to watch when I could be a bystander and, though I will never repeat this, rather stunning when you achieved it." He shot a warning look, wanting to take back what he so freely gave. "Empire does not suit you, though. I'd never seen you more desirous for bloodshed."

"It doesn't look good on you either. You've never been able to take criticism, but holy shit. All those dissenters you crushed before words could even leave their mouths. You couldn't handle a single thing being said against you."

They paused for a moment before laughing. "I take it Erzsébet lectured you on her theory of empire as well."

Gilbert affixed a stern expression of his face. "You become the worst version of yourself with power! Stop invading everyone, how many more wars do you have left in you?" He spoke with a terrible Hungarian accent, his voice up three octaves in what he believed a woman sounded like. The two of them broke into uproarious laughter.

It was Roderich's turn. He gave Gilbert a conspiratorial look. "Leave the Balkans alone! What have they ever done to you!" He dropped the voice before switching back to his normal tone. "Well, _dear,_ I don't know. Assassinating our crown prince feels like a big offense." They laughed even harder. They had to lean against each for support, wiping tears away from their eyes.

"Don't forget that bastard, France. Big winner, having his country torn to shreds for four years. Better not mess with him else he might start waving a white flag so fast, you'll call him Italy."

Austria shook his head, scoffing. "For God's sake, don't mention the damn Italians. If I knew Feliciano would turn out to be such a useless coward, I would've let Antonio take the entirety of the damned place in the divorce." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I suppose Turkey was just as helpful. It's amazing, isn't it? How the hell did we manage to get surrounded with such utter incompetence?"

"Because we'd alienated anyone else with half a brain." Prussia held his glass up. "Cheers to our utter unlikability." They clinked glasses.

"Really, I think you were more of the problem than me. You've done a lot over the years to draw everyone's ire." Roderich sighed at the pointed look Gilbert shot him. "Fine. Yes, we're both intolerable and insufferable bastards. Better?"

"Better."

They sat there, drinking in peaceable silence. The only time it was broken was when they would go to refill their glasses. It was during such a break that Gilbert observed Roderich over the bar counter. He appeared to be doing better than he was originally. He'd moved away from heading towards a psychotic break to a place of being consumed by deep melancholy. It wasn't fantastic, but any improvement was satisfactory to Gilbert. Once everything had calmed down, he was surprised at how much he was enjoying himself, how easy it was to be in the other man's presence. If he was being honest, they'd been heading in that general trend for a few years now. Something about the war changed their relationship. Perhaps it was having to be united against more fearsome enemies, perhaps it was because it became increasingly apparent that their personal melodrama would be resolved in Gilbert's favor, or perhaps they'd gotten too old for all this. Whatever it was, Gilbert was bizarrely thankful for it. He remembered their youth - when there was room to be some sort of friends, even if they never always got along - fondly. To have someone who understood your mentality, your life experiences, you could turn to would be pleasant. Much better than Antonio's constant optimism or Francis' continual condescension or Ivan's neediness.

He slumped back down besides Roderich. "Feels weird to admit it, but the war didn't feel quite as terrible since you were around. When we're not trying to kill each other, you're pretty fun to be with." He swigged his beer back, needing some alcohol to help loosen up his words. "At first, I was pissed at you for personally taking such a backseat to the whole affair, but it was always a nice break away from everything to come here, see it was all the same instead of ruins and trenches." Gilbert wrinkled his nose, the smell of sod and rotting flesh filling his nose. "Damn trenches were hell. I hate this city, but it became like heaven on earth during those years with you at the center of it all, showing that there were still some civilized men."

"There's no glory in modern warfare. In the past, I could ride up on a horse with all my decorations, shout a few words of confidence to my men, and let them handle the rest. Maybe charge you or whatever state I was warring against to make it a fair fight. Now, everything's so bloody, so uncouth. I want nothing to do with that, I'd rather handle everything behind the scenes, it's what I've always been better at. I'll admit that having spouses or underlings with better armies and generals made me quite rusty." He smiled gently at Gilbert. "Besides, while we're being complementary towards each other, why would I want to get in the way of two of the best fighters Europe will ever see? You and Hungary on the same side, conspiring together instead of against each other? What would I have to offer in that? You two would be right not to listen to me." He shrugged, leaning back against the chair behind him. "I'm glad I could provide you with some sort of escapism and you'll be happy to know you gave me the same. It was refreshing to hear from someone who actually knew what was going on and what needed to be done as opposed to aristocrats who'd grown softer than me, unsure of what to do since they'd never fought for anything before."

Gilbert snickered, shaking his head. "We're morons. We're really morons. Wasted all those damn years trying to kill each other and look where we are?" He waved an arm around. "We're fucking pariahs with no glory and only the contempt of everyone else to prove we achieved anything!"

"The good news is that when you're at the bottom, the only place you can go is up." Roderich caught Gilbert's eyes, failing to hide a smirk. "The bad news is that we've sunk beyond rock bottom. I think we've managed to sink so low as to find ourselves in hell."

They held each other's eyes before breaking into a laugh, the absurdity of it all hitting them. What a waste of time and blood they'd spent trying to destroy each other. So focused were they on their petty grievances, on trying to destroy what the other had achieved, they couldn't focus on the real threats. It only made sense that after so many years of signaling their weariness and displeasure at their constant fighting, France and Britain would team up (what power Austria and Prussia had to make a different pair of enemies finally see eye-to-eye!) and crush them. So concerned were they in besting the other for power in Central Europe that they forgot they were bit players in the larger Anglo-French drama, that they could be punished for hogging the spotlight too long by their American sugar daddy.

"You know, after any battle where you'd beaten me severely, I would always get absolutely obliterated to take my mind off it." Gilbert looked at his stein suggestively.

Roderich considered it. What did he have to lose? He'd already had a few glasses of wine, what harm would more do? He hadn't had anything resembling fun in so long, it wouldn't kill him to enjoy himself for one night. A voice in the back of his reminded him that it would be having fun with Gilbert, with _Prussia._ The very idea was unthinkable, previously unconscionable! The world had changed so rapidly. He was divorced, his empire lost to the pages of history. Hadn't things changed for Gilbert too? Hadn't he been pushed out of the seat of his power as well, having all he'd won so recently taken back as quickly as it came? They both were losers, the most pathetic kind of losers. For the first time in centuries, there was no difference in power between them. As strange as it was, they were equals. Equals in misery and, if Roderich could get over himself, possibly equals in friendship.

"Whenever you'd dealt me a crushing loss, I would always lock myself in my piano room and play until my fingers were raw, until I could no longer see that gloating mug of yours." Roderich chuckled, feeling as if some weight had been lifted from him. "Perhaps your method would've been better. Go on, get whatever I have in the bar that's strongest."

Gilbert shot up, complying with the order as if it had been barked from a general. "I'm making you play for me when you're drunk! I need to hear Edelstein's 'Ode to a Drunken Haze', I know it's your best piece."

"Only if you accompany me on flute. I refuse to make a fool only out of myself!"

"Oh, trust me," Gilbert smiled, pointing the bottle of rum he'd found at Roderich. "We're both going to look like complete idiots by the end of the night. Might as well have some fun with it."

Roderich was surprised to find how true those words would ring.


End file.
